


hugs are for hiding your face.

by thenonexisting



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, Post-Episode: 2014 Xmas Last Christmas, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenonexisting/pseuds/thenonexisting
Summary: The Doctor is acting strangely. That is to say, he's clingy. Clara prods, an accidental confession is made, and the Doctor - naturally - tries to run.





	hugs are for hiding your face.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this during a very, very, v e r y long coach ride. first, i envisioned this set directly after the woman who lived. now, i'm not so sure. in the timeline it's post-Last Christmas. un-beta'd. (there may be bits missing and therefore continuity errors but i'm too tired to fix them all and i really wanted to post this.) enjoy~

A familiar tingling sensation floods Clara's senses, a sign that the TARDIS is entering the vortex. The anticipation of seeing a whole new world makes her giddy with excitement. Wandering around the console, she can't help but grin to herself like a fool thinking about the amazing ridiculousness that is her life.

Her train of thought is broken when a large figure looms over her. The perpetrator buries his head in her shoulder. She's still not quite used to this touchy feely version of him that's become more and more prominent since last Christmas. She doesn't know if she's quite ready to acknowledge what it means. This though, this is particularly unusual.

"What's up with you?" she asks, genuinely curious.

She hears him mumble into her shoulder, feels the vibrations of his thick Scottish brogue rumble through her body.

"Sorry?"

Another mumble.

She reaches back to entwine their hands. (She can feel them awkwardly hovering beside her hips.) The gesture makes him to relax and he lets her wrap his arms around her waist so he can lean his weight onto her. She tells herself it's just so they can be more comfortable if they're going to be standing for a while.

"Doctor."

He lifts his head slightly. "I said, this isn't a hug."

"You still don't get a vote." She tightens her grip on him. "Besides, feels like a hug."

"It's-" His sigh tickles the back of her neck. "I needed to hide my face."

She laughs, confused. "And my shoulder was the most logical option?"

"You're about three inches too short for optimal shoulder-hiding height, but yours will do."

"Gee, thanks." A pause. "Why do you need to hide your face again?"

"In case I say something I shouldn't."

"Like?"

"It's not important."

"That's your code for very important."

"Can't we just move onto the bit where you tell me with what you've indoctrinated your pudding brains today?"

"Nah. Come on. Like... I know! Like you've gotten us banned from one of my favourite planets in my absence?"

"No. Don't be silly. I've gotten us banned from three planets that you only vaguely liked. Stop it, stop making that face. Smile any harder and you'll break your face."

Clara's about to make her "got you!" victory speech but what tumbles out of his mouth next shuts her up.

"It's in case I say something ridiculous like I'm hopelessly in love with you Clara Oswald and I haven't felt like this in a very long time and my brain may as well belong to a pudding brain because it doesn't know how to function appropriately around you. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Clara pushes out of the embrace and spins on her heel. Her eyes inflate to what the Doctor calls the size of saucers and his quickly follow suit.

"Did you just..."

"I didn't-"

"Oh yes you did."

He's backing away from her now but she's stalking after him like a predator would her prey.

"Clara, it's this body," he says from the opposite side of the console. "My mind and mouth don't do what I tell them to do."

"No shit."

"Your face. You're cross with me."

"I'm _processing_."

A tense silence follows.

"Right!" he announces suddenly, fiddling with some dials and levers. The TARDIS groans. "Midnight. Leisure planet made of diamonds.  Lots of sun and... spa things. Donna seemed to like it anyway. About 300 years after my last trip so perfectly safe. Probably. You just have to land her. Have fun! I have repairs to atrend to.

Before she can protest, he's leaping for the stairs. _No no no no._

"Is it true?" she whispers, afraid that if she speaks too loud the illusion will shatter and she'll awaken from a dream.

He freezes on the first step. She watches him swallow a lump in his throat. 

" _Doctor_." Heels clacking on the grating as she marches over to him, Clara adopts her best authoritative teacher voice. "Answer me. Is. It. True."

"It's a lot more complicated than that, Clara," he starts, tone sombre and expression severe. The subtle deer caught in headlights look in his eyes, however, gives him away.  

"We both know it's really not."

"Don't ask questions you're not prepared to hear the answer to."

" _You_ are making assumptions."

"You said you were processing."

"I've processed."

He inhales sharply.

"Then you realise I'm malfunctioning." His tone changes to casual and upbeat, but she can see straight through him. "Quick trip to the mEdna and-"

Grabbing his arm, she tugs him away from the stairs and forces him to meet her eyes.

 "Don't you dare, Doctor."

Heart hammering, she folds him into a hug - a proper hug this time - and holds him there despite his stiffness. Then she says quietly, "Don't you dare take it back."

"As if I could," he breathes into her hair, folding his arms around her and sagging into her small frame.

Even though she can hear his hearts racing beneath his ribcage and feel his fingers drumming nervously against her back, he squeezes her tighter. She's sure he can probably feel and hear her single heart beating profusely too, but she wants him to know this is affecting her as much as it is him. If it isn't obvious by the way she's hiding _her_ face this time, she doesn't quite know what to do either. She curls the fingers of one hand into the material of his coat whilst softly drawing circles on his back with the other.

When she leans back to look up at him, his eyes are shut. His brows are furrowed together and his face is crumpled. The poor man is probably hypothesising every possible disastrous scenario that could now happen to the space-time continuum as a result of his confession. Or wallowing about how he's a Time Lord and feelings are incompatible or some nonsense like that. Probably both.

He tenses under her touch as she traces over the frown lines on his forehead. Her fingers caress the side of his face travelling down until she's cupping his jaw. Clara bites her lip as she contemplates her next move.

"Why now?" she asks quietly, staring into his chest. "Why tell me now?" 

" _I'm not your boyfriend"_ rings in her ears, words from from an age ago. Both of them have grown and changed and gone through so much since then. They've come so far, but is it far enough? Are they ready to confront their own feelings for each other, to acknowledge what they are to each other?

"It's been months in Earth time for me," he says, breaking the silence.

Gently, he pushes away from her, gives himself breathing space, and runs a hand through his air. She feels his anxiety and discomfort in waves. No personal space is invaded but Clara hopes her eyes and body convey how much she wants to reach for him.

"At the Academy, we were taught that this... this feeling is dangerous. It's all consuming and universe destroying. It's why looms existed; anything else and Time Lords would be too distracted, too vulnerable."

At this he chances a look at her before quickly averting his gaze.

"The last time this happened the fabric of reality was almost torn in two. It's been a long time since then and it's been that way for a reason. I'm trying to be a good man, Clara.

"So I tried to stay away, to fix this, to stop feeling  _this_. But I missed you. I came back. But when I saw you, saw the look of wonder on your round face piloting the TARDIS, it reminded me of why I take on companions in the first place. And everything I've been trying to push away... it all came back. And it came out. I'm not human, my physiology is far superior, and still I couldn't control myself. I'm so sorry, Clara."

"Hey," she admonishes, finding herself toe to toe with him now. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry about."

As if to reassure him, she rises up onto her tiptoes and kisses him. It's a quick kiss, a peck really. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't push her away either. His eyes are still closed. She rocks back onto her heels before feeling a surge of courage and rising up to peck him on the lips again. The third time she does it, his eyes snap open to stare into her own. His gaze is so intense she feels like he's staring into her very soul. Her stomach backflips and a delicious warmth pools in her belly. A rush of endorphins sends her head spinning and before she knows it her knees are buckling.

Just as she starts to lose her balance the Doctor catches her around the waist. One of her hands is still gripping his jaw while the other is clutching his shoulder. Using this new position as leverage, Clara leans into him once more. And finally, _finally_ he reacts.

He captures her lips with his. Soft and wet his mouth slides slowly, gently against hers, a soft pressure which she gladly reciprocates. He's testing the waters and she's more than happy to encourage him along. When her fingers slide into his hair, tugging just so, the kiss deepens. The Doctor pulls her closer, sliding his arms more fully around her waist. Her fingers slide deeper into his curls, scratching his scalp in time with her kisses. 

Soon enough Clara has to take a breath, bur he chases after her lips before she has a chance to close her mouth. They trade leisurely open mouthed kisses for a while before she takes her revenge. She pulls at the hairs on the nape of his neck and scratches at the spot just _there_. He moans into her mouth in response, a wicked sound that makes her stomach swoop. This spurs her on to bite his lower lip, to tease and tug at it with her teeth. It elicits another moan that she feels all the way down to the tips of her toes.

He increases the pressure of his kisses and she meets him force for force. He uses his extra height to meld his body into hers so that he's bowed over her. Clara, however, uses this to her advantage. She exposes her neck, tugs him downwards by the hair.

He takes the hint surprisingly quickly and moves to press hot, bruising kisses down her jaw line, her throat, her neck. It feels focused, purposeful, methodical almost. It's as if he's trying to map a constellation on her neck with his kisses. Like any good navigator, it seems he has a destination in mind too for when he finds her pulse point he stops kissing.

Instead, he laves at the throbbing artery and bites down. Hard. It's her turn to moan, and she feels him smile against her neck rewarding her with another bite. This time, a simpering whine. She doesn't recognise this vocal version of herself, doesn't know why her hands are trembling at his touch, doesn't remember the last time she was so willingly submissive. In fact, as he continues to lick and suck, all she can think about is how she's either going to be wearing lots of scarves and turtlenecks to work or staying onboard the TARDIS for quite some time.

It's only when the TARDIS lurches to one side that they're forced to separate. The Doctor is flipped back against the console and Clara teeters precariously on the spot.

"Midnight," the Doctor mutters. Hair wild and breath ragged, he's snapping into action, furiously pressing buttons and adjusting dials.

But his eyes are dilated and coal black, his hands shaking.  _She's_ made him look like this, she reminds herself. She's the one in control.

When he reaches for a lever on his right, Clara swats his hand away and pulls the stabilising lever herself before flicking the complimentary switches. With a self-satisfied smirk, Clara folds her arms and leans back against the console as the ship rights itself. The movement tips the Doctor in her direction. Skidding to a halt in front of her, he throws his hands out to regain his balance and they land on either side of her.

She cocks an eyebrow for good measure. There are inches between them; she's so close she can feel his hot breaths on her skin, but she doesn't falter under his piercing gaze.

"Tired?"

"Never."

The deepness of his voice sends shivers down her spine. Arms remaining crossed, she stands up straight and clears her throat.

"You've got a bit of lipstick..." she starts, gesturing to her mouth area then to his.

"Ahh, uh, here?" he splutters, dabbing at his mouth with his sleeve.

"Nope."

He's blushing now. It's adorable, Clara thinks. She licks her lips.

"Here?"

"Nope." she says, strolling up to him. "Just... here."

Balancing her hands on his hips, she surges up to kiss him. It's long and languorous and with _lots_ of tongue. On her part anyway. She takes the lead and he tries to mimic her but ends up submitting to her advances. It's _endearing_. When she's finished, she uses her thumbs to wipe either side of his lips, pats him on the cheek, and then steps back to admire her handiwork.

"There. All gone."

She has to suppress a giggle at how awestruck he looks. His lips are wonderfully red and swollen. She spends a minute just staring at him.

He gets uncomfortable after a while, shifting from foot to foot, gaze on the floor. For a moment, Clara worries that he already regrets what just happened. It's not hard to imagine him running away to hide in the depths of the TARDIS, not coming out until he thinks it's been enough time for her to forget and they can move on as if nothing has changed.

Alas, he surprises her.

"I mean what I said, Clara," he says eventually, fiddling with his sleeves, eyes everywhere but on her.

"That you're in love with me."

"Y- Yes..." She hears the breathlessness in his voice. "That."

"And?"

"And you don't need to feel obligated to... return those feelings. Or take any notice of them. Not to appease me. I'm a two thousand year old non human alien who has no business with someone as young and human and impossible, and I shouldn't-"

_Seriously?_

"Save it." She places her index finger on his lips then grabs his hand with her spare on. "I knew you were gonna do this. And I know that you know how I feel about you. I meant it when I said there was only ever one other man for me, dreamcrab or not, and if you don't know that man is you by now then God help you, you daft old man."

"But you've never said-"

"You've never asked. You and I, we're the type of people who need to say things to each other. But we don't. Because... our actions speak for themselves. But sometimes, sometimes we need to say things like... like I love you," she says on an exhale, closing her eyes and taking his hand to place it over her cheek, "even though it's the most difficult admission to make in the world because it means the universe can have something - someone - to hold against you. It puts you off guard and you're right this feeling is dangerous. I let the universe take control for one moment, one split second, and it took Danny away from me. And I carry that guilt and regret every single day of my life."

"Clara, that wasn't your fau-"

"Shut up, and let me finish. I carry that guilt every day of my life because it's a reminder of how Danny deserved someone so much better. He deserved someone that he could marry and have two point five kids with, someone he could own a home and grow old together with, but that person... it wasn't me.

"It never was. Not for a single minute. But I let him believe it was a possibility, that I wasn't yearning for a life in the stars, and I let him suffer because of that, because I was too stubborn to take control of what was right in front of me all along: a life with you."

The tears are threatening to spill but she continues.

"It's what I wanted and what I still want. I want you, every part of you: the adventures, the dangers, all of it. You're trying to be a good man? You _are_. You're more than what I deserve and I'm exactly what you deserve. I don't want either of us to waste a single second denying it any longer. I don't care what the universe has to say about it, and you shouldn't either. This is my choice and my life, and I'm here to stay, Doctor."

The Doctor says nothing but wipes away her tears with his knuckles. He moves their joined hands over his hearts and pulls her towards him in silence.

"Don't you bloody try," she says, smiling weakly, eyes shining. She's trembling all over and her heart is in overdrive. Still, she doesn't know when it will consciously hit her that she's just beared her soul to him. Despite her body's flight or fight response, this whole situation doesn't feel quite real to her yet.

"Five foot one and crying, I've never stood a chance," he echoes his former self, beaming at her. 

His smile is infectious and she giggles giddily, because now she knows. She knows they can make this work. Whatever _this_  is. All she knows is that he is hers and she is his. Her heart bursts with joy and she can barely resist the urge to claim his lips again (and again and again and again) but then she notices his smile drop.

"Okay?"

"Clara... there is one more thing. It's very important."

She groans. (And not in the pleasurable way.)

"...The kissing thing. Is it something we do now?"

Letting out a sigh of relief, she laughs and arches an eyebrow at him. "So what if it is. Problem?"

"Not at all. The opposite, in fact."

"Good, because I intend for us to do the "kissing thing" very, very often. Got that?"

"Yes, boss."

"Good answer."

"One more thing."

"If this is going to be about "upgrading" my household appliances again, it's still a resounding no. Kissing doesn't change my answer."

"I still think you'll change your mind once you experience the advantages first hand, Clara, but no. It's not that."

He looks bashful and her eyes soften. She's not ashamed to admit her heart twinges at the sight of him. He's wringing his hands as he comes closer, and she wants to take him into her arms and give him every assurance that he's safe with her.

"As I said, it's been a long while since... since... you know." His arms flail. She remains silent. "I'm out of practise with all the emotional and... physical things. I need you to help me learn it again. Only if you want."

It takes a moment for it to sink in but when it does Clara catches the glint in his eye.

" _Everything_?" She cranes her neck up at him before daring a pointed glance downwards.

He smiles shyly, head bowed. "Everything."

"So you want lessons?"

"If you feel up to the task."

"Well, I am an _outstanding_ teacher. Ask Ofsted. In fact... since you're so keen, how about we have our first lesson," she says, looking down at her nonexistent wristwatch and yanking him down by the lapels until they're eye level, "now?"

"My Clara, now would be perfect," he whispers, as she crushes his lips to hers.

END.

 

**Author's Note:**

> many of you will have spotted references to several episodes, including t h a t line in heaven sent. this could very well be the start of a canon diverging series. idk, lmk what you think. hope you're all having a lovely day! :)


End file.
